Mattheo Riddle One Shots

Hello, Goodbye.

Warnings: kinda sad ngl, oblivious Mattheo, death of a relative.

Summary: Mattheo only talks to reader when he needs someone to talk to, to have listen to him ramble.

Words: 1193

Reader's POV

The Slytherin common room was quieter than usual. Most of the house had gone to bed, leaving only the crackling fire and your solitary figure curled up on the emerald couch. You should have been asleep, but you weren't. You never were—not when your mind was preoccupied, waiting for the inevitable.

And then, it happened. The door creaked open, and his familiar silhouette appeared.

"Y/N," Mattheo called softly, his voice low, almost apologetic. But you knew better.

You looked up, forcing a tired smile. "Hey, Mattheo."

He didn't hesitate to sit next to you, too close as always, but not close enough to mean anything.

"I just—I need to get this off my chest," he began, running a hand through his dark curls. His jaw was clenched, his brown eyes swirling with frustration.

You nodded silently, your throat already tightening with the weight of knowing how this would go.

"It's my father again," he started, the bitterness in his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "He's pushing me harder, expecting more. And for what? To be like him? I don't want to be like him, Y/N. I'm not him."

You listened as he unraveled, pouring his soul out to you like a book with torn pages. His frustrations with Tom Riddle, the expectations, the darkness constantly creeping at the edges of his mind.

And you let him.

Because you always did.

"Do you think I'm as screwed up as he says I am?" he asked, his voice quieter now, laced with a vulnerability he rarely showed anyone else.

You wanted to say no. To tell him he wasn't his father, that he wasn't broken. That he was so much more than what he gave himself credit for. But all you could manage was a soft, "I don't think you're screwed up, Mattheo."

It wasn't enough. You weren't enough. But you hoped, desperately, that maybe one day he'd realize what you couldn't say.

That you cared for him in ways he never seemed to notice.

Mattheo's POV

Y/N was different. She was safe.

That's what he told himself whenever he sought her out in the middle of the night, when the weight of the world—or his father—pressed too heavily on his shoulders.

She didn't expect things from him the way his friends did. Tom, Theodore, Lorenzo—they were all caught up in their own expectations of what he should be. Y/N, though... she didn't push. She just listened.

And maybe that's why he went to her, night after night, spilling his thoughts into the quiet comfort of her presence.

It wasn't fair to her. He knew that somewhere deep down. But Mattheo wasn't one to think too hard about things like fairness when he was drowning.

"Thanks, Y/N," he said after another one of his long rants. He didn't miss the way her eyes lingered on him, soft and warm in the dim light.

He ignored it. He always ignored it.

Reader's POV

You should have seen it coming.

The way Mattheo stopped seeking you out as often, the way his late-night rants turned into fleeting conversations in passing. It all changed when he started dating Astoria Greengrass.

She was beautiful, confident, everything you weren't. And Mattheo seemed happy.

You tried to tell yourself that this was enough—that as long as he was happy, you could live with it. But the ache in your chest told you otherwise.

It wasn't until your grandfather passed that you realized just how one-sided everything had been.

You'd sat by the fireplace that night, staring blankly at the letter in your hands. The words blurred together as tears streamed down your face, but you still managed to send an owl to Mattheo.

I need you.

That was all you wrote.

And he never replied.

Mattheo's POV

It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

Astoria stormed out of the common room, slamming the door behind her. They'd fought again—this time over something trivial, something Mattheo couldn't even remember.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before reaching for his wand. He needed someone to talk to.

He needed Y/N.

The thought came so naturally, so reflexively, that he didn't stop to question it. He left the common room, his mind already racing with the words he'd spill to her.

But when he reached her dorm, she wasn't there.

Confused, he tried the Great Hall. The library. Even the Astronomy Tower.

Nothing.

Finally, he returned to the common room, only to be met with the heavy stares of his friends.

Tom leaned against the fireplace, his piercing gaze locked on Mattheo. "Looking for someone?"

"Where's Y/N?" Mattheo asked, his voice more defensive than he intended.

Theodore let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, now you care about where she is?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Mattheo snapped.

"Maybe if you'd pulled your head out of your arse, you'd know," Lorenzo said, his voice cold.

Blaise crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "She needed you, Mattheo. After her grandfather died. She needed you, and you weren't there."

The words hit him like a curse.

"What—what are you talking about?" he stammered, his chest tightening.

Tom stepped forward, his voice sharp and cutting. "She owled you. She waited for you. And you didn't even notice."

Mattheo's mind raced as the pieces began to fall into place. The missed letters, the fleeting looks she'd given him, the quiet distance she'd started to put between them.

And suddenly, he remembered.

The way her eyes would light up whenever he walked into the room. The way she always listened, always cared, even when he didn't deserve it.

He'd taken her for granted.

Reader's POV

You watched the sunrise from the Astronomy Tower, the cool morning air biting at your skin. You hadn't planned to stay up all night, but sleep was a luxury you couldn't afford anymore.

Leaving had been the only choice. Staying in the common room, waiting for Mattheo to come to you, had been torture.

You couldn't keep being his safety net.

Your heart broke with every step you took away from him, but for the first time in years, you felt like you were doing something for yourself.

It wasn't easy, but it was necessary.

Mattheo's POV

She was gone.

The realization hit him like a physical blow as he stared at the empty seat by the fire, the one she always occupied when she waited for him.

And for the first time in his life, Mattheo Riddle felt truly alone.

He'd always thought she'd be there. That no matter how far he pushed, no matter how selfish he was, she'd stay.

But now, the silence was deafening.

And he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

Author's Note: Sometimes, the people who mean the most are the ones we don't see until it's too late.